


The Most Beloved Star

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: (get it), Creature Hybrids, Demidragon (JQ Creature), Dragons, Fix-It, Lenny's Wings are Special Snowflakes, M/M, Magic, Many Thanks to Galadriel for the Title, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: In a world where a dragon's wings tell their story, Mick Rory knows that this Leonard Snart is his.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickingshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickingshoes/gifts).



Mick knows that this broken half-creature is his Lenny because he looks completely different. Not in the way his body seems to be not-quite-there, or how he's openly weeping with his bloody wounds. It's his wings.

The hatchling-sized kid Mick'd met in juvie had wings swirling with a void of black, blue, yellow, and purple. Incorporeal cuts, made by a silent silver blade, occasionally raced across the deceptively delicate webbing in angry, jagged slashes, as if the hand behind them wasn't steady. Mick used to think the constant damp quality of Len's wings had been due to his breed―he quickly learned that they were tears. Whose, he never found out.

The hybrid Mick grew up with from there started a churning in his wings. A twister that started at the spines, rolling like a spindle to weave a brand new design. Soon, Lewis' impact was covered, misshapen and blurred by a thick coat of crystalline ice. Gold held the fine cracks together, as Mick knew it would. Sometimes a breath of frost would sigh on the ice, but only when Len himself happened spit ice first.

It'd taken Mick a long while to realize that the ice of Len's wings had formed its own shape―that of dancing flames.

Unlike most other dragons, Len's wings never shifted with his emotions. The change was always gradual, like a melting glacier. As always, Len evolved at his own pace. So Mick hadn't seen a hint of what he planned before he woke up to the Vanishing Point bursting apart.

Hallucination Len's wings were gray and dull, but Mick had taken what he could get.

And in that French camp, Mick needed only a glance to know that something was up. When he was told the year from where that Leonard Snart came, his mind's eye clutched the image of Len's beautiful ice and gold like a lonely child as he stared at the numb uniform snow that dusted Snart's wings. There had been no history there, not even gold. It was more sickening than his hallucination, especially when he found out that that Len was real.

But this Len.

Without a doubt, this shade is his.

Mick falls to his knees beside him, hovering over Len's wings with a reverent hand. Around the edges are the frozen flames he knows so well, but the rest...

A star shoots across the webbing. Across entire galaxies and constellations that Mick has never seen, not even on the Waverider, but ones that he will spend the rest of his life learning. Black and blue nebula bruise the dark, constricting around a black hole of Oculus blue, but they are both dwarfed by the sheer  _substance_ of the stars that make Leonard Snart who he is. A background of green and gold float around a large corner, near the Oculus―the time stream―while little planets and moons gently orbit Len, blending from one wing to the next, with the spindly wing spines as guides.

Blazing from both sides of Len's ribs is a sun. Its flames have blue and green tints at the base, but the rest is burnt orange, and the sun itself―

Mick knows that shade of brown. He's seen it in the mirror. And that gold light emanating from the center―that's Lisa, no doubt about it.

Len opens his eyes, just enough to see. His stars seem to pulse with their own heartbeat when he sees Mick.

"M...it's..." he coughs up blood.

Careful as he can, Mick puts Len's arm over his shoulders. "I know, buddy."

"Anc..." Len shudders. "Anch...n...need...can't..."

The Oculus black hole starts expanding. Mick won't―can't―have that.

Anchor? Mick's shit at bein' one. But he can try. Best way he can think of is to kiss Len, free hand squeezing his shoulder to the point of pain. He's not sure which makes Len groan, only that when Len kisses back, his lips grow warmer.

Sara's yellin' in his ear, demanding to know where he is. She can damn well wait.

Len breaks the kiss to wheeze. But he doesn't fade out. He is definitely-there. Mick catches him before he can fall on his face.

"Found..." Len heaves a wet cough. "Found you."

The bastard has the nerve to smirk at him, albeit feebly. 

Mick can't not kiss him again. "With a new setta pretties."

Len blinks sluggishly at his wings. "Mm. Didn't...didn't see 'em b'fore."

"Before?"

Len lets out a soft breath and leans heavily against him, forehead to his collarbone. "Been...tryin' to find the right time. N' pieces. Had to find th'pieces."

Mick pets a few galaxies, earning a weak trill. "Pieces? Oculus literally blew you up, then?"

"Mhm. Ev'rywhere. Ev'rywhen." Mick can feel another smirk. It quickly sobers into a quiet sigh that twists a knife in his gut. "I'm...I'm tired, Mick."

"You're bleedin' all over the place. I can't see a wound."

"There...there ain't one. Jus'―time."

"Whatever it is, we gotta get you cleaned up. Come on, Len. I gotcha."

At that, Len sighs again and goes limp. Mick takes that as an allowance to maneuver him onto his back. The demidragon makes a rumbling sound and wraps all six limbs around him.

"Lenny."

"Mm?"

"I kinda need to see where I'm goin'."

"...oh." The wings retract. They brush Mick's elbows as he walks.

"Hey Sara," Mick says.

"There you are! What's going on?" Sara snaps, "You were supposed to be back ten minutes ago!"

"To be fair," Stein says, "he most likely does not understand what 'ten minutes' means."

Len growls. It sounds about as threatening as that punk kid in juvie, but Mick appreciates the thought.

"Keep your pants on," Mick says, "I'm headin' back now. Might wanna prep the medbay."

"What happened?" Amaya demands.

"Nothin' happened to me. But Snart's in bad shape."

Things get a little crazy in Mick's ear. He tunes it out in favor of listening to Len's breath. The cacophony refuses to die down until Mick and Len are in sight.

The team charges out, weapons ready.

"Relax," Mick says, "it's him." Probably passed out, too. A snappy comment would've been made by now. "Move."

"We're on the Scottish moors in  _1644_ ," Nate says, "how is this the guy you know?"

"Look at his wings," Ray says.

"Astonishing," Stein whispers, "I've never seen anything like it. Not even on a full-blooded dragon."

"I'm just fulla s'rprises." Ah, there he is. "Now someone gemme a coat."

Ray blushes. "He's...not wearing underwear, is he."

Mick grins. "Nope."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where 'demidragon' came from. All I know is that Len is a human-dragon hybrid, not a weredragon, so I just sorta...made up a word.
> 
> I write fantasy, okay? I'm allowed to do that. Probably.


End file.
